


carry you like you carry me

by inlovewithimpossibility



Series: Snapshots [17]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode: s07e07 The Slabside Redemption, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithimpossibility/pseuds/inlovewithimpossibility
Summary: “You have new glasses.”Felicity freezes in his arms, moving back a little so that she can look him in the eyes.He’s crying, just like she is, his poor, beautiful face covered in blood that she prays isn’t all his.“Seven months in a prison cell and you’re worried about my glasses?” She asks, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips.This crazy, delusional, wonderful man.(three-shot on post-7x07, dealing with the immediate after-effects of Oliver's release)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Rachel Platten's 'Superman' 
> 
> this first part is a mess but I couldn't not write it after THAT scene

“You have new glasses.”

Felicity freezes in his arms, moving back a little so that she can look him in the eyes.

He’s crying, just like she is, his poor, beautiful face covered in blood that she prays isn’t all his.

“Seven months in a prison cell and you’re worried about my glasses?” She asks, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips.

This crazy, delusional, _wonderful_ man.

He shrugs a little and she shakes her head, rubbing her thumb over his cheek.

She watches the way his eyes flutter closed, a soft groan involuntarily escaping his lips. He leans into the touch, obviously savoring it. She thinks of how long he’s gone without a comforting touch, without the feeling of someone else’s skin against his meaning he needs to defend himself, and her heart breaks.

“William?”

“Very excited to see you, however, still in Cambridge. I am _definitely_ not his favorite person after that.” She explains, wincing at the memory of the conversation she had with her son earlier. “I just didn’t want to risk it with an ARGUS security detail. I want to go get him… I want _us_ to go get him.”

“I like that idea,” Oliver replies and she smiles, nodding her head.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

They’re silent for another second, four blue eyes locked on one another as if afraid the other will disappear if they look away.

“Where… where’d John go?” He asks, looking around with a scared expression on his face and Felicity resists the urge to sob, knowing how much pain and misery this place has brought her love. She just wants to get him as far away from here as possible.

“To get the car, I think. You’re not really in a state to walk too far.” She comments softly, stating it as a fact so he has no chance to argue. She looks down at his side and winces, the guards explained that the reason he was late was that they were cleaning up his wounds that needed immediate attention. She knows Oliver probably didn’t let them do much else.

“I…” He starts and then loses whatever it was he was going to say before he looks down at her, eyes filled with pain and tenderness. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry. I… there’s no excuse and I…”

“Hey, hey, shh, that is obviously something we need to talk about but not right now. I love you, nothing will ever change that, even if you make a million more pig headed decisions.” She smirks and he manages a short chuckle but mixed with his tears, it’s guttural and sounds a lot more like relief. “Right now, all that matters is getting you home and letting you _rest_.”

“I’ve never been great at relaxing.” He winces with a soft quirk of his lips, an expression of pure pride coming across his face as she laughs.

“No, you haven’t but you obviously need it.” She tells him and he closes his eyes as she softly strokes his cheek once more.

“You’ll stay with me?” He asks and his eyes are so full of uncertainty that Felicity practically melts.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight for at least the next month, you are sorely mistaken.” She replies and he smiles, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

Oliver jumps loudly at the sound of a car door slamming, immediately on alert, but he relaxes when he sees it’s merely John, stepping out of the ARGUS black SUV.

He doesn’t let her go, not fully.

He keeps her hand clasped in his as he hugs his brother, needing to feel that they are both truly there.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” John smiles and looks over at Felicity, the unsaid words of their interactions over the past few weeks passing between them. She and John, as much as they love each other, need Oliver to work. He’s the glue that brings them together and that’s certainly been proven since Oliver’s incarceration. The look he sends her now is full of apology and remorse and it’s one Felicity immediately accepts, knowing there’s nothing the three of them can’t do.

She lets him go to climb into the back seat first before helping him in and encouraging him to lay down, his head cradled in her lap.

It’s there, finally wrapped up in her embrace, her fingers soft and reverent on his skin, still shaking in the way they have since she woke up this morning, that Oliver finally breaks and the sobs wrack through his body.

She’s there though, to hold him through every one, and reassure him that she’s not going anywhere.

Slabside disappears as a dot on the horizon and none of them watch it go, happy to leave this harrowing and painful chapter of their lives behind them.


	2. hold my world in your hands

She hates that she’s taking him back to an unfamiliar place.

Unfamiliar to the two of them.

But the news of his release has spread fast and who knows the kind of enemies might have just been waiting for this moment after his unmasking last year.

Felicity doesn’t want to think about what she would do if someone tried to take Oliver away from her again. She doesn’t think she’d even hesitate.

The ARGUS safe house is on the very edge of town, still close to everything. Very close to Lyla and Digg’s.

John helps them inside and lets them know to call if they need anything before hugging Oliver once more and shutting the door tightly behind him.

In the silence, the doubt and uncertainty creep in.

Oliver stands in the middle of the room, still dressed in those awful grey scrubs and his face still stained with blood. He’s looking around as if he doesn’t feel like he fits in and Felicity knows she needs to take control of the situation and fast.

“Do you want some help cleaning up?” She asks softly, not demanding, letting him know that if he wants to be alone that she’ll step back immediately but his head snaps up and the look in his eyes tells her that she’s just handed him a lifeline.

“That um… that might be a good idea.” He nods and she smiles, holding out her hand.

Her heart breaks all over again as he looks at her hand. There’s a disbelief in his eyes and she doesn’t miss the shaky breath that he releases as skin collides with skin. She knows him well, knows that he’s reassuring himself that she’s not a hallucination.

She softly tugs him towards the bathroom, her eyes catching the few things she managed to place here yesterday in an attempt to make it feel more like home. Her favorite blanket from their old loft, the pictures of their vacation and the ones from their wedding reception last year. There’s a few lining the hallway of her and William that were taken in the past seven months, all pink hair and fake smiles but the love between the two of them is real.

She notices how Oliver’s gaze lingers on those.

The bathroom seems light and airy, the late afternoon light seeping in through the window but Felicity still reaches for the cord, tugging it until the homely area is filled with artificial light. It may not be the nicest but she knows she needs to be able to see properly.

Oliver silently takes a seat on the closed toilet seat, looking down at his entwined hands on his lap. Felicity knows him well enough to know that he’s processing so she takes to pulling what she needs out of the cupboard, placing them in a line across the counter.

She catches her own gaze in the mirror for a second and despite the red-rimmed eyes that hold months of lack of sleep and her awful ponytail job due to her earlier indecision about whether Oliver would prefer to see her with her hair up or down and her shaky hands, she thinks she can the woman who’s been missing underneath it all.

A small sniff pulls her back to Oliver who looks up at her with such a lost expression that she moves immediately, placing her hand back on his cheek.

“Let’s get some of this blood off you.” She smiles softly and he nods. His hand catches her as she moves towards the sink and it’s awkward to wet a cloth with warm water with only one hand but she’ll be damned if she’s letting go of him now.

The cream cloth turns red pretty quickly as she stands close to him and gently wipes the blood from his face. She’s glad her suspicions were correct about most of the blood not being his and with most of it gone, she’s happy to see that his face isn’t as badly hurt as it first appeared. She tilts his face towards the light and places a few butterfly stitches to the particularly bad wound on his temple.

He doesn’t complain, turns when she wants him to and barely hisses when she brushes over where he’s hurt.

When she’s done, she smiles softly and steps back, running his fingers over his generally clean face. He looks up at her with that familiar dopey expression and she finds herself transported.

In this moment, they could easily be the two naïve lovers they were on their road trip, thinking that nothing could ever tear them apart, loving each other so freely and without restrictions. Felicity thinks back to the side of Oliver she got to know that summer, all cooking and smiley and domestic. She wonders how deep down that side of him is buried now.

“So, was it your brilliant idea to take all of that gorgeous hair off of your head and stick it on your chin instead?” She asks to break the silence, dropping her fingers down to his ridiculously long beard as she combs her fingers through it.

“Not a fan of the beard?” He asks with a gruff voice and she smiles, shaking her head.

“I mean, it’s attached to you so I think I’m sort of prepositioned to love it and whilst you do pull off the Shawshank Redemption meets Jason Momoa Dothraki thing, I don’t know whether I can deal with beard burn.” She rambles and then freezes, wondering when the last time she did that was.

Oliver soft chuckle brings her back and her eyes fill with tears at the sound. She didn’t realize how much she’s missed that sound.

“I think I’d like a shower.” He tells her and she nods, running her thumb over his cheek.

“Okay. You okay by yourself?” She asks, once again giving him the chance to be alone, to process what he needs to.

“I might need some help. If… if that’s okay?” He asks, looking up at her with that uncertainty all over again and she smiles, running her fingers over his head.

“Of course. Come on, I could probably use a shower too.”

She helps him out of the grey, bloodied garments and slowly and purposefully places them in the trash, reminding both him and herself that this is _over_. They’re together again and, right now, that’s all that matters.

He shivers a little and she wraps his favorite kind of towel around him, big and fluffy. She smiles at the memory of how annoyed he used to get when she’d grab it off the rail instead of her own.

She strips off her own clothes quickly and loses her pony and glasses as well, stepping into the large shower to turn on the water and let it get warm. The last thing she wants is to shock him with freezing cold water. She’s pretty sure that’s Marriage 101.

Once it’s warm, she turns and extends her hand to him, watching as he drops the towel and enters, shutting the screen door behind him.

He again stays quiet as she washes him, the cloth brushing over wounds and scars that she doesn’t recognize. Her eyes take them all in, trying to memorize them as she has all of his others but at the moment, she’s a little overwhelmed for that.

Once she finishes, she goes to turn the water off but he shakes his head, reaching behind her for the shampoo.

“May I?” He asks reverently and she frowns, placing a soft hand on his chest.

“Oliver, you don’t have to. You’re hurt, I…” She trails off, constantly amazed by her wonderful, wonderful man.

“I want to.” He tells her, his eyes conveying how important this is to him so she nods, stepping back under the spray to wet her hair before she turns, her back to him.

His hands are so gentle as he lathers the mix into her locks. He’s careful not to push too hard or scrub too harshly and Felicity clicks as he works the lather down the length of her hair, that he’s proving to himself how his hands can be more than machines.

He stays close as she moves back under the spray, using his hands to work the shampoo out of her hair as she smiles at him when he’s done. He looks down at her softly and reaches for the conditioner, a raised eyebrow being answered with a nod of the head.

There’s no need for words, there’s time for words tomorrow.

Right now, Oliver’s hands are saying all he needs to say.

Once the conditioner has run out of her hair, Oliver hesitates for a second before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his front. He drops a kiss to her scar from all those years ago and Felicity sighs, letting the water wash away the past seven months until there is only the two of them.

Together.

Finally, at last.


	3. just close your eyes

The silence continues once the water runs cold.

Felicity silently reaches behind her to turn off the shower. Oliver silently wraps his towel around himself before he offers one to his wife.

All Felicity can hear is the buzz of the light in the bathroom and the soft drips as the shower pipe loses the last droplets of water.

Oliver’s eyes lock onto hers and Felicity knows they don’t need the words.

Not tonight.

Soon, but not tonight.

She steps up to him, her towel shifting a little.

“Are you hungry?” She asks, looking into his eyes, still so hesitant that she just wants to wrap him up and not let go.

She will.

But, first, she needs to make sure he’s okay.

“No, I um… I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” He tells her and she nods in understanding, holding her towel to herself.

“Will you at least drink some water?”

He nods and she hopes it’s because he knows he needs it rather than a wish not to argue.

“Okay, I’ll get some. Just… make yourself comfortable, okay?” She asks, squeezing his fingers and he nods.

Walking away, even just for a minute, is astronomically hard and Felicity completes her task quickly, pulling two bottles out of the fridge before heading right back down the hall.

He’s sat on the edge of the bed and she resists the urge to smirk because apparently some things never change. His damp towel is soaking into the sheets, she knows, but she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to move.

Instead, she silently hands him the bottle, running her hand across his face as she moves towards the drawers, letting him know that she’s there if he needs her. It’s something she used to do all the time and the familiarity is both warming and shocking when she realizes how long it’s been.

She swallows down the tears and dresses quickly in warm pajamas. She’s desperate to welcome Oliver home _properly_ but they’re both much too tired for anything like that tonight.

Her man needs to rest.

Digging through the drawers, she finds a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved, warm shirt for Oliver. Rene went and got a few things for him yesterday, dropping them off with a smile and a ‘tell Dad I said hi’.

When she turns around, she’s grateful to see that he’s drained the bottle and is watching her with a blank expression on his face.

She smiles as she approaches, placing the sweatpants next to him on the bed. She helps him into the shirt, directing the fabric over his head and minding his wounds. He appears to have only gotten more jacked in his time away and Felicity bites her lip as she realizes how tight the shirt is on the arms, it’s the size she used to buy him seven months ago.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” She comments and Oliver shakes his head, looking up at her with soft eyes.

“It’s perfect.” He whispers and she snorts, unable to stop the sound.

“Honey, you look like you might burst out of this at any second.” She smiles and he lights up.

It takes her a second to realize that it’s not at the joke but at her use of the term of endearment.

He’s still waiting for the pin to drop.

Waiting for her to kick him out, to say she doesn’t want him.

As if she’d ever even consider that preposterous idea.

“We might need to go shopping.” He replies, with unshed tears in his eyes, and she nods, dragging her fingers softly over his face.

“That’s an issue for another day. All I care about now is you and I in that bed. _Sleeping,_ I mean! Not that I’m opposed to other activities! Definitely not but I think we’re both a little too tired for that and oh god Oliver, how many times have I told you to tell me to shut up?”

Oliver’s lips drift upwards at the edges before suddenly his arms are around her waist and she squeaks a little as she’s tugged forward but she goes willingly, hugging his head to her torso.

“I love you so much.” He whispers into her sweater and she smiles at the sensation of finally hearing those words without the static of those prison screens and telephones.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” She repeats as she softly kisses the top of his head. It feels strange without his hair.

He looks up at her, cheek nuzzling against her sweater and she smiles, thumb dragging over his ear. There’s a question in his eyes and Felicity’s smile drops a little.

What is it going to take to convince him that she wants him?

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m glue, baby.”

Oliver’s arms tighten around her at the repetition of her words from earlier in the year. He melts a little and turns his face back into her sweater.

His strong heartbeat wracks through her own body and Felicity doesn't know if she's ever felt anything more comforting. 

She feels the trace of his lips through the fabric as he kisses.

“Now get that wet towel off the bed and put those sweatpants on. I’ve missed my personal heater.” She quips as she steps back and she doesn’t know if she’s ever seen Oliver move so enthusiastically towards their new bed.

By the time she’s switched off the main lights so that they’re illuminated by the lamps, he’s lying down, obviously savoring the feeling of the soft bedsheets and pillows.

And for the first time in seven months, Felicity slides into bed with her husband.

Finally safe and warm.

Finally complete.


End file.
